


Ferelden Blooms

by ARandomFactoid



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:39:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARandomFactoid/pseuds/ARandomFactoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little story about 'Alistair's Rose' - an alternate head canon, as it were.<br/>Originally posted on Tumblr some time ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ferelden Blooms

There were flowering bushes everywhere in Lothering, and Alistair plucked one of the last blooms in a fit of nostalgia, a vain attempt to bring a piece of that little part of world out of the path of destruction.

He’d tucked it into a pack, taking it out to worry its petals when they were wandering about town before heading back out into the fields, then again when he reached camp that night. And then the odd little dwarf had gotten his hands on it, reaching for it shyly as Alistair was frowning over it’s browning edges. Thinking it a lost cause anyway, he handed it over, only to have it returned hours later as the night’s fire burned down to embers, thrust over his shoulder as he sat watch. The bud was set in silverite, and Alistair could feel the touch of magic contained between it and the petals, they themselves as full and red as it was on the bush. He gave Sandal his thanks, getting an “Enchantment!’ in return as the dwarf wandered off back to his father.

And so, the little piece of Lothering stayed with him, an insignificant thing that didn’t help anyone, but it felt important to Alistair, it meant something… he only hadn’t quite figured out exactly what. 

The months went on, Kinloch, Redcliffe, Haven and the Gauntlet - and then Eamon wants to make him king. Through it all, the bloom sat in his pack, and Tellan Cousland was beside him, or in front of him, with him at any rate. Somewhere along the the many paths, he began to think less about the Blight, Duncan, and all the rest they were still losing, and more of her as he absently thumbed the magically preserved petals. Honestly, he was thinking of her when the flower was tucked away into his pack as well, and they’d become… close. He’d asked for advice from the others and it was, somewhat helpful, after his ears had returned to their normal shade. His plan chosen, he waited for the right moment.

She plopped down beside him, flicking at the Dalish armor she’d procured from the clan’s weapons master that was repairing her usual Orlesian battledress. The sun slanted through the trees of the Brescilian, shafts of warmth in the evening chill, and he studiously avoids overly noticing the goose flesh of her exposed… middle when she shivers. The others were away, searching for various things that one apparently finds in the woods, and she turned to him, her eyes giving away her intent to try to make him laugh, and he just held it out to her. “Here - look at this. Do you know what this is?” He hadn’t really planned what to say, but mostly managed to get across that she, just being who she was, was the rare and beautiful he had thought impossible to keep once they left Lothering together all those months ago.

Except, it isn’t a rose, it’s a peony, but he was so chuffed he wasn’t going to correct her and ruin the moment, he knows it’s in her nature to see him as grander than he really is.

………………..

A Blight, a flight across an ocean, a Deep Roads Expedition and a Qunari invasion later…

Fenris is standing in the alcove before her front door, bearing a single stem, and presents it to her. “I have read that these have become a fashionable way to express one’s regard in Ferelden. I saw it in the market and thought it particularly apt, in your case.” he tells her.

Breathing in its scent, she asks “A peony? These used to be all over Lothering.”

Fenris gives her small smile, “They are being called ‘Lothering Roses.”

“So I’ve heard from Varric and other romantics, King Alistair gave…” Hawke trailed off before smiling back down at the flower. “Thank you, Fenris.”

“Of course, happy birthday, Aurora.”

She wears the flower in her hair during the gathering at the estate, and both pretend they haven’t heard the story about the Ferelden royal couple, nor do either say a word about the gift.

Sandal waits, tools at the ready, eager to make another “Wardens’ flower.”


End file.
